


Do x This x Right

by eyeemoji



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Chimera Ant Arc, Reunion, aka gon and killua have to figure out how to be friends post-CAA, also post election arc i forgot lmao, it's happy I promise, oh the trauma of it all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeemoji/pseuds/eyeemoji
Summary: Of course things would change, after what they’d been through.Killua expected this. It had to be this way. But the correctness of his prediction does little to ease the ache in his chest that has lived there for the past six months. Six months and three days, actually, not that he’s counting.In which Gon heads home to Whale Island, Killua travels, and both of them manage to miss/misunderstand each other into oblivion. Post-Chimera Ant/Election Arc(s).
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 28
Kudos: 63





	1. Reflex

**Author's Note:**

> hiii!! this is my first (public) fic, and hxh currently owns the inside of my brain, so here we are!! 
> 
> comments are super welcome, rating is subject to change, all that jazz. and huge love to all the hxh writers here-- y'all are amazing.
> 
> pls enjoy!! xoxo
> 
> (P.S. notes/playlist at the end)

Of course things would change, after what they’d been through.

Killua expected this. _It had to be this way, and you know it._ But the correctness of his prediction does little to ease the ache in his chest that has lived there for the past six months. Six months and three days, actually, not that he’s counting. He sighs, closing his eyes while the boat sways. Alluka snores beside him. 

It’s been a long time since he’s been on this ship.

* * *

“I’m going back to Whale Island for a bit” Gon had said, adjusting the straps of his backpack. It’s unlike Gon to not look someone in the eye while speaking to them, Killua noted, but this moment felt too important to interrupt. He needed to savor every minute they had left— here, at the end. 

It’s not the end, Killua corrected himself firmly. Just…some time apart for a while. Like they had talked about.  
  
Gon inhaled slowly and straightened his stance. The World Tree awaited, along with Gon’s bright future. Killua wished he could go with him, but after leaving the hospital, it became clear that Gon had to do this part alone. Parting ways was hard enough— Killua didn’t need to see Gon complete his adventure without him. Besides, someone needed to watch Alluka, and there’s no one in the world he would trust with her care. Except Gon, maybe… but that world felt farther and farther away by the second.

“I have some stuff I need to figure out before I go anywhere” Gon said factually, though it almost sounded like a confession. _I could go with you. We could go with you_. 

The faraway look left his face slowly, and was replaced by a determined one. “Like getting my nen back, so I can beat you while sparring again.” 

Killua rolled his eyes and put his hands in his pockets, smirking in return. “We’re still even, according to Bisky’s count, dummy. And while you catch up, I’ll be getting even stronger. You won’t be able to beat me next time!” He laughed. The words sounded a bit sour in his mouth, he realized too late. _Idiot._ It was as if he had accidentally hit a fresh bruise.

No normal person would have noticed a change in Gon’s face at that comment. His expression remained as it had been: golden eyes bright with promise, a smile tugging on his cheeks, dark eyebrows furrowed in competition. But Killua is no normal person— and when you’ve spent the better of two years looking at somebody else, you tend to notice these things. Something had just barely shifted, and Killua couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“So you better work your butt off, alright?” Killua added, a beat out of rhythm. _Don’t make this worse than it already is._ His fingers dug into his palms. 

“Don’t worry, Killua. I’ll do my best!” Gon offered a thumbs up with a grin, and whatever shift that appeared had disappeared just as quickly. “You’re my teammate, after all.”

* * *

_Teammate._ Killua says the word out loud to himself, like he has dozens of times— although usually he’s in the dark, laying awake at some terrible hour, sweating with insomnia. _Teammate_ — someone you happen to work or share interests with. A coincidence more than anything else, really. Was that what he was to Gon? Someone he _happened_ to be on the same team as? Was it really that simple?

More often than not, these questions burned too much to bear, and Killua would get up to try and shower them off. The hot water would hurt, which was important— like a punishment for entertaining the thought; the desire. 

They were friends, he would remind himself in the mirror. Gon had reminded him so many times before, and it had felt true then, even if it was embarassing. They were teammates too, Killua supposes. None of it was wrong. 

So why did it keep him up in the middle of the night, like some sort of curse?

Alluka’s voice brings him back to reality. “Brother,” she rubs her eyes with a yawn like a kitten, and Killua pushes her hair out of her face. “Are we almost there?” 

“Yes,” Killua answers, and he feels his expression soften into a smile. “We’re nearly there.”

* * *

When they arrive, Killua feels his shoulders drop with relief. He didn’t even realize how tense he was. Whale Island has that effect on him, he knows now. The warmth of the sun, the buzz of the town, the saltiness of the air— _home_ , he thinks wistfully, and catches himself. This is not his home, as much as he wishes it would be. _No._ Home is harsh and cold. Home is locking the door, knowing it’s useless. Home is bruises and raised voices and—

_Breathe._ He is a visitor here, Killua cooly reminds himself, despite Aunt Mito’s forehead kisses and good cooking. Alluka, on the other hand, throws herself into the whirlwind of it all at full force. She picks flowers and pockets them on the way to Gon’s house, asking question after question, demanding story after story.

When was the last time you were here, brother? _A long time ago._ Is it always this beautiful? _Yes, always._ Does Gon fish, like the people at the dock? _Sometimes. He’s very good at it._ Are you good at it? _Not so much._ What is Aunt Mito like? _Not like mom._ In a good way or a bad way? _In a really, really good way._ Where is Gon? _At the house._ Is he gonna be happy to see us?

The answer catches in Killua’s throat. “Of course” he manages, and if Alluka notices the hesitation, she doesn’t mention it. He blushes and looks at his feet. Hiding his feelings from Alluka is pointless. He realized this soon after they began traveling. He stretches his hands over his head, shrugging out the discomfort. Vulnerability is a skill Killua is still clumsily learning, and Alluka— supernaturally wise and accepting— is endlessly patient with him. 

At the doorstep, Killua hesitates. “Does my hair look stupid?” He asks with feigned disinterest. Alluka beams and reaches to ruffle his hair, revealing pink cheeks. “It looks great, brother” she says gently. 

Then the door opens. 

_Light,_ Killua almost says aloud. He would never get tired of this, he knows— Gon’s blinding brilliance; his _stupid, perfect smile_. The ache in Killua’s chest subsides just for a moment, before returning tenfold, and his knees almost buckle.

“Took you two long enough!”

* * *

Gon looks older, Killua thinks to himself. It’s only been half a year since they’ve seen each other (and four days, mind you), but even from across the dinner table, Killua can notice the differences. 

He’s taller, for one. Not by much, but enough to make a snarky remark that Gon kicks him under the table for. Aunt Mito promises to mark their heights after dinner on the door, where the old marks for “G” and “K” sit side by side.

His shoulders are broader. Not by much, but enough that Killua finds himself mentally tracing where his tan neck meets his freckled collarbone. He would know it by touch, Killua muses, and dismisses the thought with shame. _Teammate_ , he reminds himself, and drops his gaze to the now-empty plate in front of him.

And finally: there’s something missing. Not much, but enough to bother him. Gon is still his sweet, stubborn, bouncy self— these are universal constants, he knows. But there’s something about the way Gon sighs silently while putting away dishes, or the way Gon quietly watches his grandmother play board games with Alluka. The word _defeated_ offers itself to Killua’s lips, and he swallows it back. Gon is not quiet, Gon doesn’t sigh, and he definitely doesn’t watch from the sidelines. 

_Where has that big head of yours gone, huh Gon?_

* * *

“Starting from square one is harder than I thought,” Gon complains loudly and throws himself onto his bed. Killua follows his lead ( _as usual)_ and jumps onto the bed with him. When Gon quickly moves to make room, Killua’s stomach turns. 

Killua has never been one for physical touch, no. But this never seemed to deter Gon: play-fighting, grabbing his wrist to show him something, a reassuring shoulder squeeze— each of these sent shivers down Killua’s spine like fantastic electricity, and he had learned to accept this type of touch with time. It’s part of the deal, and he understood that well.

It was somewhere on Greed Island, he remembers, that Killua began to _want_ this touch. And selfishly, terribly… _more_ of it. One evening, while practicing, Gon had ended up on top of him, throwing his head back with laughter. Bisky called Gon’s victory from afar. Breathless, Killua drank up the sight of him, caked with sweat and dirt and dried blood, and his face burned. He felt dizzy and warm and…wrong.

Killua knew it wasn’t allowed. _You can’t feel this way about a friend._ That’s not how their set up works. Gon pinched his cheeks, teasing him from above. _This is terrible. And I’m terrible, for how badly I want this._ But— he’s already a bad person, so what’s another sin on the list?

A secret took shape between his ribs. He swallowed hard, and from the dusty earth, watched Gon’s outline jump and cheer against the sunset. A painful smile snuck onto his face. 

_I’m so fucked._

These words echo through Killua’s head while in the air, and instead of Gon’s arms, he lands onto the empty mattress. _He knows._ This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. _He must know._ Panic runs through Killua’s veins like cold water, and he can feel himself making a face.

“Did you hear me, Killuaaa?” Gon asks, cocking his head to the side. Killua exhales and shakes his head. “That’s okay Killua! It’s not that important. I was saying that re-learning nen from the beginning is really hard, but I think I just have to try harder, like you said.”

Killua moves slowly and carefully, bringing one arm up to support himself. Gon is looking out the window above Killua’s head, watching dusk descend. _Why won’t you look at me?_ Killua wants to ask. _Why are you afraid to touch me?_

Instead, he snorts. “It was hard to start in the beginning, too, remember? It’s just a setback.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Gon pouts. “It’s hard to not get upset, though. I hate feeling so…” He pauses. “So… _weak_. I can’t be helpful, I can’t travel like you and Alluka can. I don’t really know how to be normal after everything, yknow? I don’t like it.”

Killua is listening, but is focused on Gon’s hands. Strong and squared, hard as a rock. He’s seen them accomplish immense damage and so, _so_ much kindness. Guiltily, he imagines what his cold, long fingers would look like between his. _Stop it_.

“You’re still not normal, Gon” Killua offers jokingly. “And it sucks, but it’s just gonna take a while. It took us months, years. Plus,” He catches Gon’s half-smile. “Maybe you’ll learn how to be patient in the meantime”

Killua braces for a playful push. An amused reply, at least. But nothing comes, and that makes it all so much worse. Gon shrugs and rolls over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. The window curtains ripple. Somewhere, far into the woods, crickets begin to sing.

Gon hums quietly and Killua thinks he might explode. “Hey, idiot—“ Killua barks, but the words fall flat on the ground. His voice sounds so loud in the quiet it startles him. 

“Sorry,” Gon says thoughtfully. Something hitches in the back of his throat, and Killua inches closer to him. Gon has comforted Killua dozens of times, and each time he knows exactly what to do, exactly what to say. It’s like he was born with it, that sense of impossible timing. Killua knows he doesn’t have the same skill, but he wonders, as he watches Gon bite his lip and breathe hard, if now if he could do the same thing in return. Slowly and shakily, Killua reaches out to give Gon’s arm a reassuring squeeze, but Gon moves. He sits up and sighs with his back against the bed frame, his eyes still faraway somewhere else.

_He doesn’t want you to touch him anymore._

Killua’s heart breaks into a thousand tiny pieces, right then and there. He can feel it.

“I just— I know this is gonna sound crazy,” Gon begins again. “But it’s like I can feel my light getting smaller. Like, I used to be able to feel my nen all around me, like a swarm of bees,” Gon scoffs at his own choice of words. “But I can almost feel it flickering out, Killua. It’s so dim now.”

A breeze passes between them. Killua dares to breathe. 

_I get it now._ Gon does not return his feelings, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t trust him. 

_Teammate._

So this is how it happens, Killua thinks, outside his body for a moment. Not with an awful confession, awkward rejection, or mistaken kiss. He had thought it through a thousand different ways. But this. This hurts more than any of those drama-filled, cartoonish scenarios. 

“This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper” Leorio had read aloud to him once while he visited. Leorio had been reading for pleasure, out of some book Killua didn’t care to know the name of. But the quote strikes him now, square in the ribs. Not an apocalyptic rejection— but a quiet, _Not you. Not like that._

Killua takes a deep breath, now refusing to meet Gon’s eyes. “Gon,” he says quietly. Gon looks up.

“You are so bright, even when you can’t see it. There’s no way that sort of light just goes away.” It comes ungracefully out of Killua’s mouth, shameless and true. “Your nen will come back, and after that, everything can be like it was before.” 

The last part was selfish. Of course things couldn’t go back to how they were before. Not after Killua had to watch Gon turn inside out with pain, and then carry what remained off of the battlefield. It feels like years ago, but his body still remembers the limp, heavy weight of Gon on his back. To go back to before… it would mean cleaning up Gon’s messes again. Tagging along on Gon’s adventure. These were no longer options now, and Killua knows that. But the memories of laughing by campfire light and fighting alongside one another are dangerous and tempting nonetheless. They could go back to being… _teammates_ , and Killua would never speak of his secret again.

“Thank you, Killua.” Gon says suddenly, and its earnest tone makes Killua’s throat hot.  


“I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’ll have to work really hard, but…” He drifts off. “I just don’t know. I don’t think I want things to be like they were before. What if I’m supposed to just stay normal and lead a normal life here on the island. I wouldn’t cause anyone any trouble. Nobody would ever have to get hurt because of me.”

The thought clearly pains him. It’s the same look Killua had seen after they saw Kite again (or rather, what remained of him)— like he was trying to figure out what he had to do. _Damn that moral compass of yours,_ Killua thinks. 

“You worry too much,” Killua states, effectively steering the conversation into safer territory. “And you’re thinking too hard. Careful, or you’ll hurt your brain” He leans over to flick Gon’s forehead and catches the reflex. 

“Let’s go to bed” he exhales and gets up, hands on his hips. Gon nods, and his eyes brighten. The spark of familiarity relaxes Killua. With newfound nostalgia, childhood seems to creep into the room and surround them both.

“Only if you tell me about your adventures so far.”

* * *

Who knows what time it is. 

All Killua knows is that he is in love with the boy sleeping across the room from him. His heart is such a traitor. 

_You should be thankful he still even wants to be around you._ Killua groans into his pillow. “Starting back at square one,” Gon had said. The truth of it was agonizing and plain: Killua was back on Whale Island again. Staring at Gon’s silhouette in the dark…again. Thinking about how soft Gon’s lips would be against his, how his hands would feel running through his dark hair… again.

If this is some sort of divine joke, Killua isn’t laughing. He and Gon had just spent hours talking about him and Alluka’s travels, leaving out the parts where he almost called but didn’t; where he wrote long letters and didn’t send them. Hours of storytelling together, catching up, and still, Killua wants _more_. More from the person who now shies away from his touch. Killua has his answer now, but that doesn’t seem to stop the hunger that makes being on Whale Island so difficult. _Was I too obvious?_

_“_ Carelessness will kill you,” his father told him. And he supposes it has. 

In the dark, Killua decides to be greedy.

“You could still come with us,” he says to Gon’s back. Part of him hopes Gon is already asleep, so he doesn’t have to hear the way his voice shakes so pathetically. “With me and Alluka, I mean. You could train between places, and she’d love to have you around.” 

_I’d love to have you around._

He sounds ridiculous, like a little kid asking for more time to play. Why would Gon want to spend time with him, after this? He clenches his jaw, counting each second that goes by.

“Not yet,” Gon turns around, and even in the dead of night, Gon’s eyes shine like they’re lit from the inside. “I want to, Killua, really— but I can’t. I still need to figure out what I’m looking for now.” Killua freezes. “And once I find out what it is, you’ll be the first person to know. I promise.” 

Killua’s heart jumps, and he tries to put it back in its cage. “Alright, alright. Don’t say anything embarrassing.” He sticks his pinky out from under the covers and reaches across the gap between them. _Greedy._ “So. Promise?”

Gon’s hand slowly emerges from his blankets and meets Killua’s to lock pinkies, and their thumbs meet. _Sealed with a kiss_ , though neither of them say the rhyme.

Killua falls asleep almost immediately.

* * *

In the morning, everything is golden. 

The light drips from the windowsill and transforms everything around it into something otherworldly. The light bounces off of Alluka’s hair beads and dazzle the floor. Each time he visits, Killua is convinced that Gon’s house lives somewhere between real and unreal— there’s a certain type of homey magic that only exists in this kitchen, he thinks, and Killua wishes he could stay here forever. The smell of bacon and eggs fills the room. 

“Good morning, Killua!” Gon and Alluka say nearly in unison, and after a pause, they look at each other and laugh. The three of them share breakfast, and something in Killua tugs him to stay. _This is so nice_. He’s had daydreams like this: sunlight pouring in, Gon in the kitchen. In this dream, Killua wraps his arms around Gon’s waist as he cooks and kisses the back of his neck. Things are… normal, between them. Ordinary, in the happiest way. 

This kitchen table in morning is close to this fantasy. If he had less self-control, Killua would reach out and trace his thumb down Gon’s jaw, down to his lips. But if Killua is good at one thing, it is control— though even that had been fraying lately. Breakfast is perfect and uneventful. An unspoken something remains. Killua studies Gon's hands. 

“Thank you for everything,” Alluka bows at the dock, and steps on Killua’s foot as a hint. Where Alluka picked up good manners, he would never know. 

“We’ll see each other soon, so it’s no big deal,” Killua shrugs, half-joking, half-hoping. “Text me when you’re ready for us to stop by again, alright idiot? Otherwise, we’ll just start showing up unannounced.”

Gon giggles and pats the pocket where his phone is. “I will! And it’ll be soon— and for longer next time.” He bows at Alluka. 

Killua’s cheeks burn. _Next time._ Killua rubs his thumb, like he could still feel Gon’s promise against it. “See you next time, then.” 

They are suspiciously quiet on their way down the hill. “Is everything okay, Alluka?” Killua asks carefully. “Did you have too much orange juice?”

Looking straight ahead, she grips Killua’s hand. 

“He’s hurting.” Alluka says simply. Killua turns around to see Gon behind them, but as he looks, the ache in his chest returns. The waving silhouette has disappeared from sight.


	2. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It will take time, Gon. Longer than you think.” Wing had explained a few weeks ago. The long distance call crackled through the island landline. “But it’s not impossible. Emotions, as tricky as they may be…” He trailed off, “…are the source of your strength. I suggest you locate the blockage, and then untangle it.”
> 
>   
> In which Gon begins to heal, and Kurapika picks up the phone for once. Part 2 of 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo again!! 
> 
> thank you all for your comments/kudos/etc!! they really pushed me to keep writing, and i'm excited to post the rest <3 apologies for any and all tense/typo mistakes last time. still figuring that out, lmao!
> 
> also-- general trigger warning for this chapter! brief mention of violence/suicidal intentions on gon's part. long story short, the boy has some stuff he's working out, and sometimes saying it out loud makes it real. 
> 
> thx so much for reading + as usual, all feedback is welcomed and appreciated xoxo :~)

The nightmares don’t come immediately. 

Instead, the world is quiet when Gon gets home. Startlingly so. Usually the earth is loud when he arrives: animal cries from the woods, waves on cliff-sides, his own laughter that bubbles up out of him.

But once he gets off the boat it’s as if his head is full of static. _Did it really feel this way before awakening my nen?_ His senses feel muted; distant. _I don’t remember._

The memories bloom slowly in the moonlight, like some awful flower. Bodies strewn across fields, deemed unworthy by Chimera Ants. _Too late._ Sweat. The sound of Kite’s arm landing hard on grass. _Fight._ Pitou’s horrible voice. Cold water. _Impulsive._ Killua’s voice, strangled with grief. Killua. Killua— 

Gon never really understood what regret meant until he was drowning in it.

At a certain point, Gon accepts that this is…just the way things are now. The realization almost feels good: _you lived, and this is the price._ At least there’s a price. Cosmic justice, or something close to it. 

So Gon decides to take things slow, like Leorio had so enthusiastically recommended. Gardening, fishing, reading, walks alone. Gon focuses on what he can touch with his hands.

It’s…fine. Really. It’s a literal _miracle_ that he can do any of this after what he put his body through. These sorts of truths are what Gon thinks about as he lazily combs the beach for small shells and treasures. 

On an especially hot afternoon, he slips one into his pocket: hard speckled white on the outside, pearly blue on the inside. The curves of the abalone are impossibly soft, Gon thinks. Like fresh sheets, or feathers, or Killua’s hair, or— 

Gon’s gut twists. He has to stop doing this. 

_Killua has his own life now, remember?_ He’s finally found what he was looking for: adventure, companionship, real freedom. 

_And I’m not there to hurt him anymore_.

* * *

On his bed, Gon stares at the shell and breathes slowly. His gyo is weak, but undeniably _there,_ and having something to focus on helps. It’s been almost an hour, and his pillow is soaked with sweat. 

“It will take time, Gon. Longer than you think.” Wing had explained a few weeks ago. The long distance call crackled through the island landline. “But it’s not impossible. Emotions, as tricky as they may be…” He trailed off, “…are the source of your strength. I suggest you locate the blockage, and then untangle it.”

_Easy for him to say_. Gon sighs and abandons the exercise, wiping his forehead and carefully placing the shell on his nightstand. An email sound dings from his computer.

_We’re coming to see you for a night between stops. Alluka wants to see the island. Got your nen back yet? — K_

Gon’s heart pounds. Shakily, he types back one line:

_C U soon!!!!! — G_

Gon gets up slowly— as if approaching a wild animal— and then digs through the back of his closet on his hands and knees. He pulls his shameful secret out from its cardboard box and presses his face into it. 

It’s childish, really. Just an ordinary black t-shirt that Killua had lent to him after the hospital.

“Take this. Yours is still dirty, and unlike you, I pack more than one outfit while traveling.” Killua had stuck his tongue out at him and threw the shirt in his face. “Just give it back once yours is washed.”

Gon never returned it, of course. How could he? It still smells like Killua, and Killua had never asked for it back. He must have forgotten. 

_Thank goodness._

Now, it lives hidden in Gon’s closet. Once in a long while, Gon allows himself to be selfish like this; to miss Killua, even after he put him through hell and back. Gon folds up the shirt, puts it back in its box, and looks out the window. 

Soon after arriving at Whale Island, he remembers, Gon had made himself a rule: this is how he could love Killua. _At a safe distance._

Any closer, and Gon might let his guard down. He might ask to be at Killua’s side again. 

And Killua deserves better than that.

* * *

There are three times where Gon wants to kiss Killua.

Well, more than that. A _lot_ more than that. He’s wanted to for six months straight (it had been hard to think about much else)— and before then, well… Gon didn’t exactly have the words for it. It wasn’t until there was an ocean between them that Gon had realized the warmth he’d been feeling had a name. 

_Too late, again._

Gon wants to kiss Killua lots of times, over and over again. That’s old news. But three times, Gon catches himself dangerously close to doing something about it. 

The first time, Killua doesn’t do anything special. He’s just himself— smart, strong, sarcastic Killua. Except he’s all of those things, and so many more, _and_ he’s on Gon’s doorstep.

“Yo,” Killua grins, running a hand through his white hair. 

The sight knocks the wind right out of Gon’s lungs. Gon can hear his pulse in his ears as he catalogues every detail, cementing it into memory: Killua’s long, wonderful hands; his enormous blue eyes; his thin, delicate eyebrows.

There are so many things that Gon wants to say. _I’ve missed you so much. You’ve grown. You look beautiful. I’ve been such an idiot. Please never leave again._

But instead, Gon beams and his voice shakes. 

“Took you two long enough!”

The second time, Gon is careful. He and Killua talk about their lives, their friends. Killua apparently gets sappy emails from Leorio and funny ones from Ikalgo. Kurapika doesn’t call. Alluka has taken up skateboarding. Things are okay, all things considered.

Gon flops onto his bed, and moves quickly to give Killua room when he jumps close behind. Gon is proud of his reaction time, even when it’s followed by the harsh sting of nostalgia. 

Surely Killua wants his space— in retrospect, he always has. Gon had never been respectful of those physical boundaries, he realizes one day while picking weeds. So Gon makes twice the effort to respect them now. 

It’s a painful exercise, if he’s honest. As the sun sets, Gon talks about his nen abilities— or lack thereof. 

Killua is kind. 

_Keep it together_. Gon chokes on the confession of his weakness. _Don’t do anything impulsive._

Killua is kind again. 

Relentlessly kind, dangerously kind.

When Gon catches a hand reaching towards him, the world slows to a stop. 

He wants this comforting touch more than anything. From _Killua—_ Killua who made the _choice_ to be good; Killua who put his claws away for him; Killua who is moving _closer_ and _closer—_

All at once, it’s too much. With his last shred of self-control, Gon recoils and sits up. _Nen. They were talking about nen—_ and pulls himself back into the present. His head spins.

It’s one close call of many. Killua is kind, again and again. He says sweet things to Gon, and in return, Gon works subtly to create a safe distance between them. They talk about things other than themselves, and a recognizable rhythm eventually returns. 

Gon wakes up early the next morning and breathes in the cool air. His head is unusually clear, and the house seems to glow gold. When was the last time he felt this good?

He looks over at Killua’s sleeping form, and in the shy dawn, a simple truth occurs to him: this was the first time in months that he’s slept through the night.

The third time, it’s his last chance. 

As usual, Killua is the last to wake up, so Gon spends the morning cooking with Alluka. She’s radiant like Killua is. Her enthusiasm for the world is boundless: _Are these chicken eggs? How do you flip them over correctly? When did you learn to cook? Can you teach me? Can I try?_

She does. It’s a wonderful mess.

Something about Alluka’s endless curiosity makes Gon feel the tiniest bit hollow. It’s a fuzzy memory, but he remembers waking up the way she does now, bright and ready for the next day’s adventure. The familiarity summons a pang of protectiveness in his chest, and suddenly, Gon thinks he understands Killua a little bit better. They set breakfast on the table together. 

When his best friend stumbles into the kitchen— all bedhead and pajamas— Gon’s resolve is weaker than ever. 

“Good morning Killua!” Gon and Alluka exclaim, though he nearly chokes. The light behind Killua illuminates his white hair and god Gon is _staring_. He can feel himself doing it but refuses to move, as if staying still would freeze time and allow him to look for a bit longer.

Unfortunately for Gon, Killua moves to sit down.

“What are you looking at?” The jab is playful. Familiar.

“Nothing, Killua!” Gon shakes his head and forces himself to exhale. Had he been breathing? Killua rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, which gets him a loving cheek pinch from Alluka.

“Brother, be nice!”

“Fine. Hand over the juice then, you weirdo.” Suspicious, Killua pauses. “You look happy.” He sounds almost surprised.

Gon grins. He is.

* * *

It’s two in the morning. Or three— four, maybe, now that Gon is thinking about it. 

His eyes ache behind his eyelids as he breathes slowly, trying to coax himself back to sleep. Sometimes, when the nightmares are especially bad, Gon climbs out from his window and onto the roof. The world feels bigger from up there, and in turn, he feels smaller. The feeling is refreshing— scary things seem to matter less in the wide dark space. 

_Perspective_ , Leorio explained once. _It makes you think about what matters._

Gon opens his eyes and flattens his palms against the roof, realizing he had been clenching his fists. 

_What matters._

Lots of things matter, Gon figures. He hums thoughtfully. Being kind to people, for one. Being honest, for another. Family matters. Friends matter. Killua matters. 

Heat flashes across Gon’s cheeks as he feels himself tempted to dig through his closet again. _It’s only been two months since they visited_ , he reminds himself. He needs to learn to be patient— who knows when the next visit would be. 

_Soon_ , they had agreed. Still, Gon finds himself fidgety. 

Killua matters. Killua matters to him _a lot._ In a way that Gon was still just understanding, although he had been blind to it for a long time. 

He had mattered to Killua, too. He knows that now. Killua has always been loyal, dependable, supportive, _selfless_ — and what had Gon been in return? He had been selfish. 

Which is why now, more than ever, Gon wants to give Killua what he deserves: freedom. Freedom from _him_. 

He’s uneasy, and his acrobatic imagination doesn’t seem to be relaxing any time soon. Gon takes out his phone and winces from the bright screen in the dark. He scrolls through his contacts, looking for something, though he’s not quite sure what: Killua, Alluka, Leorio, Bisky, Ikalgo, Palm, Knuckle—

His thumb hovers over one name and frowns. Kurapika would be up at this hour, he guesses, though he’s almost certainly too busy to pick up. 

Waves crash on harsh shore in the distance, and Gon takes a slow deep breath before hitting “call.” He’ll leave a message, he already knows, and begins mentally reciting what he’ll say. The other line sputters to life.

“Gon?”

“Kurapika!” Gon yells, nearly slipping on the roof shingles. “Is everything okay?”

Kurapika’s voice sounds scratchy, but warm. He sounds tired. “You called me, Gon. It’s—” a pause; rustling. “—It’s almost four in the morning. Are _you_ okay?”

Suddenly, there’s a hot lump in Gon’s throat that keeps him from answering the question. He hugs his knees to his chest. The bluntness of Kurapika’s question leaves Gon feeling very young all of a sudden, which should not be as strange as it is for someone Gon’s age. He opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out.

On the other line, he can hear Kurapika exhale, settling into… _whatever_ this is, and Gon is thankful for the patience. The space between them is punctuated by Gon’s sniffles and hiccups. Wait— is he crying?

Kurapika exhales, understanding without words. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Gon,” he starts gently, and the statement kicks Gon in the teeth. 

“You’re wrong,” Gon’s voice cracks immediately. “All of it was my fault. So many people died. _So_ many people, Kurapika. I went out to help them, and instead, I hurt even more people by being so, _so_ angry,” 

It’s like a damn breaking, and it all tumbles out at once. Gon’s chest tightens and he cannot breathe, _breathe goddammit._ He is heaving, snot and tears everywhere.

“I— I didn’t go out there to kill Pitou. I went out there to die. I had to for Kite— it was the only thing I could give that would be enough. But it wasn’t— because he’s gone— and I’m—”  


“Gon—” 

“—And I’m _still_ so angry. I’m so angry at myself it hurts. I was so weak that Killua had to carry me out of there. And he—”

“ _Gon.”_ Kurapika interrupts, his voice harsh before it softens. Gon wipes his face with his shirt and hacks through sobs for god knows how long. Kurapika gives him the space to, and in the dark, Gon wishes quietly Kurapika was there to rub his back.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kurapika repeats slowly. “You’re a lot of things, Gon Freecss, but none of them are selfish. You…you’ve been through a lot,” his sigh is sympathetic and affectionate. “More than a lot of people go through in their whole lifetime. And you’re _young_. That’s a lot of grief on your shoulders.”

Gon hiccups again. Hot tears continue to fly down his cheeks, but he roots his feet to the roof below him and tries not to cry directly into the phone. 

“Sometimes, when you feel angry or guilty, punishing yourself feels like only solution. I understand that well,” Kurapika continues with caution, as if he’s telling a secret. “But sooner or later, you’ll realize that hurting yourself isn’t going to _do_ anything. It’s not going to fix anything or…bring anyone back.”

“But—” Gon protests. He inhales. “I— I hurt Killua, too. After everything. I pushed him away so he wouldn’t get hurt with me. But I ended up making it so much worse. And now I don’t— I don’t know how to make it up to him. He shouldn’t care about me after that.” He clenches his fists again as honesty stumbles out of his mouth, bare and desperate. 

There is a beat of silence. Kurapika speaks carefully and firmly, so Gon hears every word. 

“But he does because he loves you, Gon. That’s what we do for each other.” He says simply. “We love each other anyways. You’re enough as you are, and Killua knows that. And pushing him away isn’t going to make anything easier between you two.”

Gon bites his lip. “I…I love him too.” The confession escapes, but as it comes out, it is stupidly true. “I just don’t want to hurt him again. I can’t.”

“It’ll take time for both of you to figure out how to be friends again. And it probably will hurt a bit, too. But once you do,” Gon can hear the faint smile on the other line. “I bet you’ll find that your friendship will be even stronger than it was before.”

Gon buries his face in his knees, and something in his chest flutters at the possibility. Something close to hope. After a minute he forces out a deep, shaky breath and nods.

“Thank you, Kurapika.” The words are awkward and inadequate. “And thank you for picking up the phone. I didn’t think you would,” Gon admits.

“Work is busy,” the other man answers factually, and Gon senses the tone shift. “I don’t have much time these days, but you caught me right as I arrived back from a mission.” He sounds slightly preoccupied and Gon can hear the sound of shuffling paper in the background.

“We all miss you, Kurapika.” Dangerous territory, but Gon tries anyway. “Leorio misses you a _lot_. He talks about you all the time,” Gon snickers. “It can get pretty annoying, actually.” Another sniffle.

“Well, he can get pretty annoying,” Kurapika replies quickly, but not without fondness. Gon hears him swallow a thought. 

“…Tell him I say hello, okay? And that I hope his studies are going well.”

“I will. I bet he’d like a call better, though.”

“Right,” Kurapika scoffs. “Well, I have to go. But…you’ll be alright, Gon. I really promise.” Sounds of movement make it into Gon’s ear, and he realizes Kurapika is leaving somewhere. “Good luck.”

The line goes dead. Gon’s phone is heavy and cold in his hands.

For a long time, Gon is quiet. He sits unmoving in the night chill, letting the breeze off the ocean move through him and kiss his cheeks raw. The wind bites without teeth; he breathes in and out until his vision is clear. 

Inside his room, Gon’s eyelids feel heavy. The blankets are warm and welcoming, and under the covers, he types out a text, which _dings_ cheerfully as it is sent to the other side of the world.

Somewhere far away, Killua’s phone buzzes.

_Perspective,_ Leorio had called it. 


	3. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you want to be a strong big brother— and you are!” Alluka says, rolling onto one elbow. Killua’s shoulders drop and he climbs onto the corner of the giant bed, crisscrossing his legs.
> 
> “But you can also talk about your feelings with me.” The faraway weatherman gives a thumbs up as they go to commercials. She adds quickly: “if you want to.”
> 
> In which Alluka listens, and a new chance reveals itself. Part 3 of 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy howdy!!!!
> 
> thank you all again for your comments/kudos/etc!! <3 
> 
> i just moved (yay!), so sorry if this chapter feels a little rushed/short. the next chapter will prob be a bit longer, and will also be the finale! woohoo!! thank you all 4 your patience and support-- enjoy! :~)

It was wrong of him to steal the shell. Killua knows that.

But…what else was he supposed to do? It was just sitting there on Gon’s bedside table in the morning, all shiny and still— a _souvenir,_ let’s call it. 

Killua half-chuckles, but the sound that comes out is tinged with hurt. He pulls his hand down his face and sighs into the bubbles around him, sinking deeper into the hot bath he ran for himself. The sound of cartoons roar-squeak-crash from the other room. It occurs to him that he’s lost track of the time he’s been in there.

Down between his pruny fingers, the shell’s inside shimmers a pale blue. It’s… _beautiful_. Killua mouths the word, observing how it feels on his tongue. 

_Beautiful_ , he tries again. He banishes a flash memory of Gon, curled up and asleep on a train while Killua took watch. He turns the shell over.

Alone, he feels his face get hot.

Gon probably doesn’t even realize it went missing, Killua guesses. 

_Doesn’t matter anyways_ , he mumbles into the bubbles, defeated. It’s not like Gon is going to invite them back to Whale Island any time soon, either. On their way out, Gon was just being polite— Killua knows that now, and he has multiple unanswered texts to prove it.

He groans. The sooner he accepts Gon’s feelings, the better. But no answer or ache has the power to interrupt muscle memory. The brain is a muscle. The heart is a muscle. That much is simple.

What’s less simple is conditioning yourself _out_ of it. Killua knows a lot about conditioning— you can train yourself to do, to _be—_ almost anything with the right amount of discipline. Killua knows this truth intimately.

But god Killua is _tired_ of learning and unlearning. It took him years to not flinch at Gon’s touch; to accept care without condition from people like Mito and Leorio. Trust is a learned skill, like anything else— and once trust is broken, well… Killua is still figuring that one out. 

In the meantime, he sits in a bubble bath, feeling especially small and childish. 

The shell is so… _stupid._ Killua heaves a sigh and stares at it in his hands, wanting to blame it for being so tempting. He scowls, drops his shoulders, then surrenders.

Killua closes his eyes. 

Quietly, he hopes the shell _is_ important to Gon. The memory that materializes is a rounded type of sharp: In Gon’s bedroom that morning, half-asleep and infatuated, Killua had made himself a promise:

If he could take this tiny piece of him, then he wouldn’t ask for more. 

* * *

“He’s hurting,” Alluka had stated on their way to the boat. When cautiously prompted to elaborate, she just shrugged, cheeks puffed out. 

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me,” Killua stretched his arms over his head. “I’m smarter than I look.”

Alluka gave a small huff. “He…” she began carefully. 

“He’s hiding something… or holding something back. Nanika and I think it’s taking a lot of his energy.”

Killua mentally hushed his rising pulse. 

_Hiding something_. That doesn’t sound right.

“Gon couldn’t hide something even if he wanted to.” A nostalgic half-smile threatened to make it onto his lips. “He’s never been very good at that. It’s not in his nature.” 

_Don’t even entertain the thought._

“I don’t know about that, brother,” Alluka smiled and tugged Killua down to her level to reach into his backpack. She returned to his sight moments later holding a fuzzy fruit, which she bit into. Snacks Gon and Mito had packed for their journey, probably. 

“I think he’s frustrated. With nen and being home and stuff. You would be too, right?”

“Yeah?” Killua bent down and took a bite of the fruit. Alluka whined in protest. “And what does Nanika think?”

Alluka’s expression shifted slightly, and Killua’s stomach turned. 

“That he is filled with grief.”

* * *

In the bathroom, Killua makes faces in the mirror.

He has to wipe the fog periodically, but in the moments between, he poses, pulls at his cheeks, tries to imagine what he might look like to someone else. His hair is wet and sticking in all directions, which he hates, but he plays with it enough to look decently normal and then squints.

What does Gon see?

A friend? A teammate? Something…else?

There’s a rattling sound as the drain goes and Killua leans over the corner of the bathtub. The stupid shell sits inside, blocking the water from going down. The drain coughs. Killua had nearly forgotten it in there— he picks it up and balances it on the sink. The pipes hum with the blockage gone. 

_Careful._

Killua’s phone buzzes and he nearly jumps out of his skin. His warm soapy world has been rudely interrupted by reality, and heart pounding, he reaches for the phone. He holds it in his hands like it has teeth. 

_r u out yet? — A &N_

Just Alluka from the other room. _Breathe._ Disappointment robs Killua of all his energy, and his body threatens exhaustion. 

_What was he expecting?_ He takes a deep breath and changes.

“I’ll be right out!” He yells, pulling on a warm clean turtleneck. As he opens the door, steam rolls out in big heavy waves. 

“I’m glad we’re not paying for water,” Alluka smiles, looking up from her comfy TV-watching spot on the bed. She watches the clouds of steam lazily emerge. “Or heat.”

“We sort of are. I mean, we’re paying for the hotel room, so.” Killua fluffs his hair with a towel. 

Alluka _hmm_ s thoughtfully and lowers the volume, clearly disengaged from whatever’s on. Something about animals, from what Killua can see. Or superheroes. Superhero animals? 

“You think loudly sometimes, brother.” She squints, and Killua freezes.

“I guess so,” he hangs up the towel, now watching her just as carefully. A neutral answer. If she wants to know something, she’s going to have to be more specific. 

Alluka sits up and it’s as if she can look right through him; transparent. He shivers. 

“Are you thinking about Gon again?”

Now _that_. That’s unexpected.

Killua’s chest tightens. Alluka is smart; she is kind; she is observant. 

But what, is she a _mind_ reader now?

Killua moves slowly, nonchalant and careful.

“Nah. What makes you say that? I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Killua knows the execution is off and winces. _Wrong answer._

“Like what, Ki-llu-a?” Alluka chirps, clearly amused. Killua can feel his ears get hot.

“Like nothing, A-llu-ka” he parrots back, butchering the sing-songy tone. He sticks out his tongue. “None of your beeswax.”

This game is useless, really. Alluka knows how special Gon is to him, but why she’s bringing it up now, Killua couldn’t say. 

“If it’s nothing, brother,” she changes the channel absentmindedly and Killua almost protests. Maybe the animal superhero thing was a _little_ bit cool. 

“—Then why are you _blushing_?”

Killua opens his mouth, then closes it. _Traitor_ , he curses himself. He wishes he could rub it off of his face. Gon had poked fun at him too back when they traveled, unaware that he was the source of Killua’s pink cheeks. Back then, Killua had blamed the heat. Or the cold. Or whatever weather there was.

“Alluka,” Killua steps forward playfully, slowly shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks ready to pounce, raising his hands and wiggling his fingers. “You’re getting pretty nosy these days, huh?”

She squeals as he tackles her, tickling and swearing and kicking. They roll onto the remote, which changes the volume and language of the TV, adding to the chaos of the wrestling. 

“Quit it!”

“ _You_ quit it!”

“Then give up!”

“You started it—”

“Hey— ew, stop— no biting! Gross!”

“Then tell me why you’re sulking!” Alluka opens her mouth around his forearm with a theatric pause.

“Nope!” In one swift motion, Killua scoops her up and tosses her in the air. Electricity crackles quickly across his skin as he moves to catch her, laughing. She huffs.

“No powers, that’s not fair!” 

He laughs and does a little wiggle. “Nanika can play too, if she wants. But neither of you can beat your big brother!” 

She rolls her eyes dramatically as he tosses her back onto her spot. She throws her head back onto a pillow, hands resting on her middle, then pouts. 

Game’s over. 

Killua stretches and watches the TV, which is now on a weather channel for a completely different country. Wherever it is, they’re getting a lot of rain in the next three to six days. Bummer for them.

Sunset settles in over the skyline from their window, which causes orangey shadows to start appearing in their room. He can hear his own breath, he realizes.

“I know you want to be a strong big brother— and you are!” Alluka says, rolling onto one elbow. Killua’s shoulders drop and he climbs onto the corner of the giant bed, crisscrossing his legs.

“But you can also talk about your feelings with me.” The faraway weatherman gives a thumbs up as they go to commercials. She adds quickly: “if you want to.”

Alluka lets the offer hang in the air. Killua plays with his hands. 

When did she get so wise? Or is he really that transparent?

He gnaws at his lip. Either way, denying it is silly at this point. He exhales slowly, consciously forcing his walls down. _It’s just me and Alluka here_ , he reminds himself. The mini fridge buzzes in the quiet.

“You’re getting too smart,” Killua says flatly, resisting the urge to cross his arms. 

“I’ve always been smart!”

“Yeah, you’re right. Well… say I _was_ thinking about Gon. Hypothetically.”

“ _Hypothetically_ ” she coos back at him. The echo earns her a half-hearted push.

“Yeah, _hypothetically_ , okay smarty-pants? Say I _was_ thinking about Gon. Who cares? It’s not like he’s—” he swallows. “Thinking of me.”

Alluka’s brows knit. “He’s always thinking of you, brother.” The end of the slow sentence is raised, close to a question. She watches Killua's expression change and cautiously restarts. 

“I mean, anyone with eyes can see how much you care for each other. You’re best friends, after all.”

_Teammates_ , Killua mentally corrects. 

“ _And_ —” she adds, “you do love each other, don’t you?”

The question is loaded on purpose, of course. Her eyes are wide and unreadable. Bait, but Killua decides to take it. 

His heart tells his secret for him, and he wonders if Alluka can hear it in the silence between them. He pulls his knees to his chest, then exhales carefully.

“I love him.”

The confession is awkward and true, the way it’s always been. It doesn’t hurt when he says it out loud, actually— rather, it feels like part of a weight is lifted. He breathes and repeats, mostly to himself:

“I love him. But,” he shrugs, “he doesn’t like me back. Not in that way, at least.”

Alluka smacks her forehead with her hand and snorts. “You two can be so—”

“Cool?” Killua offers.

“ _Dense_.” 

Killua’s jaw drops for a moment. “Hey!” He throws a pillow in her direction, which she catches and hugs, unfazed.

“Not in a bad way! You just…you need to talk.”

“Uh, Earth to Alluka: we talk all the time. We text and stuff, too.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Killua knows what she means, but keeps his mouth shut and looks away. A soft, gentle hand meets his shoulder and he feels himself tense before he relaxes.

“Have you asked him how he feels?” she nearly whispers.

“No, but I don’t have to anymore. Gon can’t keep secrets anyways. I’d know if he wasn’t telling me something.”

Alluka shakes her head and curls up next to his lap, like she’s ready to sleep. Killua brushes her hair with his fingers and she hums happily. 

“You’re not that good at keeping secrets either, brother. Not anymore.” She smiles without opening her eyes as Killua’s ego takes a hit. He considers flicking her forehead.

“—And you can’t know how someone truly feels without asking. Sometimes I think I know how Nanika is feeling, but then when I ask her to come out, she surprises me! And that’s okay. I love her anyways.”

There’s a lump forming in Killua’s throat, and he nods instead. The room is a deep clementine now, and he watches the sun begin to disappear. 

“What’s important is that I try not to assume how she feels all the time. I try to ask. Sometimes it’s even a good surprise, and I wouldn’t have known otherwise!”

“You and Nanika are very smart,” Killua says quietly. He untangles a strange of hair near her beads.

“Like I said earlier: we’ve always been smart!” Alluka turns and sticks her tongue out at her brother. “Especially when your brother can be a big dummy.”

“Hey! _Not_ nice. Where’d you learn that?” He wipes his stinging eyes and pinches her cheek.

“Gosh, I don’t know brother,” she answers, grinning. “With the way you used it on Whale Island I thought it was an affectionate term.”

Now that’s _enough_.

The tickle fight begins again, this time expanding into the rest of the room. Blankets and stuffed animals fly, the overhead light swings dangerously, and Killua’s sides ache with laughter. He lets Alluka win, and pretends to gasp and claw as she fake-smothers him with a pillow. After a few dramatic gags and last words, his arms and legs go limp as his sister giggles with victory.

Killua’s phone buzzes again from the bathroom. 

“I’ll get it!” Alluka shrills and leaves her victim behind. _Some assassin._ Killua takes the pillow from his face and pulls it under his head. His gut twists when her footsteps stop.

“Alluka? Who is it?” He jumps to his feet.

The tiny girl emerges from the bathroom slowly, reading and rereading something on the screen. She places her hand on her chin thoughtfully, then tosses the phone in his direction.

“Yo, careful, that’s—”

“It’s from Gon,” she interrupts, then pulls his shell from her pocket. “Also: what’s this about?”

Killua gasps. “ _Gimme_ that, it’s mine!”

In a flash, the shell is in hands, then his pocket. Alluka puts her hands on her hips. “Did you find that on Whale Island?”

“Sort of,” Killua answers, but his eyes are glued to the phone screen, tapping open his messages. His breath hitches and his hands threaten to shake. It’s probably just a ‘hello’ or something dumb, _relax_. 

His fragile heart flutters anyway.  
  


_One new text from: Gon Freeccs._

_K,_

_There’s a festival happening on the island in 2 months. It’s sorta fancy, but there’s good food and stuff!!! I can send u more details later. If you can, will you come? Please?_

_— G_

Short, sweet, and as usual: blunt. All it takes is four sentences to make Killua feel like he could explode into a million pieces. Adrenaline courses through him: joy? Confusion? Panic? Maybe. Maybe all of them at once. He must be making a face because Alluka raises an eyebrow.

“Well? Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” Killua covers his mouth, as if his feelings could escape or bubble out of him— and to be fair, the pounding against his ribcage feels a lot like his heart is fighting its way out. His fingers wrap around the shell in his pocket.

The familiarity of the text makes Killua warm. It’s classic Gon: no plan offered, few initial details, punctuated by a request that Killua can’t deny. He knows this dynamic well, and it feels good. Normal, even.

What tugs at his brain is one word out of place: _Please_.

Gon says please plenty often, if Killua recalls. But it’s almost always drawn out, like a near parody of itself: _Pleaaase can we stop at the aquarium Killua? It won’t take long, I promise;_ or: _Killuaaa, can we stop for lunch soon please? I’m starving._

This text, however, is different. It doesn’t assume a yes— it _hopes_ for one. The subtle difference makes a thinking line form between Killua’s eyebrows. Maybe he’s reading too much into things.

“We’re going back to Whale Island in two months,” Killua announces finally. Alluka breathes a sigh of relief and fluffs his hair, teasing. 

“Don’t scare your sister like that, geez!”

She reaches for the phone and Killua keeps it out of her reach for a moment longer, typing quickly. The “sent” notification chimes and he hands it to her, forcing himself to breathe. 

_I’ll be there._

_— K_

**Author's Note:**

> eeeek, thank u for reading!! the rest is outlined and happening, so stay tuned :~) 
> 
> in the meantime, this is my killugon playlist that i listen to for (mostly angsty) inspo:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/05LPG4KNVOW9vLmEqDLyq5?si=35Zsjh4AT_SLhcYbYweIkg
> 
> thx!!


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